


Armor

by Aroihkin



Series: Veilfire Bones [5]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 08:50:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3203210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aroihkin/pseuds/Aroihkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before Lavellan was Lavellan, she was Tabris; the elf who butchered the Arl of Denerim and left his estate washed in blood on her wedding day. Solas learns of this from her own mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Armor

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt** : [here](http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/12449.html?thread=48553889#t48553889).

The Inquisitor led him up onto the battlements, and along the length of wall to where the stone remained crumbled and broken. There, she paused, and turned back to face him, one scar-crossed eyebrow slightly raised. "Private enough?" she asked, voice as harsh and full of ground glass as ever. Sometimes it was a little smoother, when she'd had plenty of her herbal tea and had warmed up her vocal chords by speaking more than a few words at a time, but it was never the easiest sound to listen to.

Solas didn't mind. It was part of her, just like her scarred face, broken beak of a nose, and her crooked fingers; all of it told stories without words. It said that this person had done more with her life than many, and all of it had come before she'd even ended up with the Anchor. "Yes, of course," Solas bowed his head for a moment, clasping his hands loosely behind his back. The wind up here on the wall was loud and strong; it pulled hard at the tails of his tunic in little tugging bursts, like a child demanding attention.

Alleyana stared at him, waiting. She was doing that thing she did whenever she was focused completely on someone -- head angled slightly down and to one side, upper body leaning slightly forward, her eyes fixed on his face. He'd seen her turn that same look on others, as well. It took a moment before he realized that he hadn't yet explained _why_ he wanted a private conversation.

"...I wished to ask you," he braced himself, not sure what her reaction would be, "about the things Cole said about you the other day."

"Oh," the sound was quiet enough that he barely heard it over the wind, and then the Inquisitor turned away from him. She set an armored hand against the last parapet before the crumbled section of the wall, her intense gaze now directed out over the valley.

"I hope I have not offended you," it wasn't the first time Solas had said as much after asking her a personal question. It was often hard to tell exactly where one stood with the taciturn warrior, even for him. She was eternally difficult for him to predict, which was half of what made it so fascinating to try.

"Ask me whatever you want," Alleyana glanced back at him, her words -- unexpected -- merely proving his point. "I may not always have an answer to give, but I will never be offended that you asked."

"Is that so?" Solas was surprised, but pleased. "Are you certain?"

"Completely," she turned back to him again, but jerked her head to the side, indicating the sloping rubble beside them, "come on, I'll show you something." With that, Alleyana started to climb her way down the slide of old loose bricks and mortar, as natural as though the Dalish warrior was slipping through the forest instead of old wreckage. Despite her heavy, plated boots, no less.

Curiosity more than piqued, Solas followed her down and back up the other side, where the wall was solid and sturdy again. She led him further from the damaged section, and then abruptly put a palm down against the raised inner lip of the wall and slung herself over and onto a crumbling cross-brace of stone, which served as a crude half-ramp, half-staircase down. They were above the kitchen, he realized as he followed her. It was a quiet place, tucked up against the corner of even taller walls, obscured by the peak of the kitchen's roof. Vines grew up the masonry and across the loose rubble on the floor, adding a bit of the wild back to a scrap of still-forgotten civilization.

Well, perhaps not forgotten after all, but Alleyana had made no attempts to turn it into something other than what it was now. "I come up here to think, sometimes," she said to him, stepping past a loose brick without kicking it. "I'm sure Leliana knows all my little hide-outs, but I've kept them from everyone else."

That brought a slow, but genuine smile to Solas' lips, and he looked around again with renewed appreciation. A tiny, secret ruin within the bustling fortress. "It is very beautiful," he said, "thank you for showing me."

Alleyana was silent for a while, staring at some of the vines on the walls. Solas followed her gaze, up to where a sapling was actually growing out of the gaps between blocks. "...Which part did you want to know about?" she asked, eventually.

Solas had assumed she'd dropped the subject entirely, and found himself thrown for a moment. "Ah, well, all of it?" he blinked, and then quickly added, "If I must choose one thing... there was mention of a dress. Soaked in blood, as I recall." All of it was of interest, just as he'd said. But Alleyana was rarely seen in anything short of full armor, let alone in a _dress_. If he had to pick one detail to have clarified, that one was the most puzzling snippet by far. It had to be quite the story.

"Yeah," Alley sighed, sharp and short, and raked the gauntlet-encased fingers of one hand over her scalp. Her hair was tightly braided, as always, the grey at her temples disappearing into rich brown, appearing here and there again in the rope before being swallowed back up again. The braid's tail wasn't twisted up and pinned to her scalp, right now, as she had no intention of putting on a helmet within the next few hours, nor did she have a shield on her back, and so it swung behind her as she began to pace the little area. "That one's... complicated."

"I am listening," Solas watched her pacing, noting how she still didn't stumble over any of the rubble or trip over any of the vines on the ground. Civilization and nature seemed to be one and the same, under her boots.

"It was a wedding dress," Alleyana finally said, and glanced at him with a somewhat challenging expression on her face. He couldn't help but look as startled as he felt, eyes widening-- she didn't seem to take that well; her own eyes narrowed, and her tone sharpened. "His name was Nelaros. Handsome fellow; good fighter, excellent smith. My father did a better job at finding me a match than that poor bastard's family did, to be sure. I already looked and sounded like... this," the gesture she directed at herself was a wide-encompassing sweep with an open palm, "I already wasn't good for much besides a sell-sword."

The warrior paused in her pacing to look down at her own gauntlet-encased hands, her expression complex. There was clearly a lot more going on inside her head than she was voicing, as she flexed the crooked fingers in and out, in and out.

Solas watched her carefully, silent.

"...And of course," Alleyana dropped her hands and resumed pacing, "Nelaros died trying to save me. _Me._ He didn't even know me. If I'd just been a little faster killing those guards, I could have saved him. Just a _little_ faster. Five seconds. And if I'd been faster after that, I could have saved my cousin from the Arl. But I was too slow for both of them."

"I am very confused," the mage offered cautiously, when she seemed to pause for his reaction. "Guards? An Arl?" He didn't know what the wedding customs were among all the Dalish clans, of course, but he was pretty sure none of it involved armed guards or human nobility...

"The Arl was having a party, and he dropped in on the start of the wedding for... entertainment," Alleyana said stiffly, "two brides and many of the other women in attendance around our age. Took us to his estate -- I was knocked out -- and threw us into a holding room with guards while he started in on my cousin first."

"You..." Solas reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, concentrating hard. "That is... terrible. But I fear there is a piece of the puzzle missing. Why was an Arl anywhere _near_ your clan?"

"Ah," Alley went still again, and Solas looked up at the feeling of her eyes boring into him, "I am Dalish," she said, "I am part of clan Lavellan... completely, with no reservations. But, not by birth."

_That_ clicked the whole thing into place. Solas hadn't realized that any of the Dalish would accept someone not born among them, after his own dealings with their views on... outsiders, even those with ears like his own. "...I see," he nodded slowly, "so, you were an alienage elf." Many more things than the story made a lot more sense now, such as her old, clearly untreated injuries. A city elf couldn't go to a healer for something like crooked fingers or a broken nose, and whatever had been done to her to make her voice sound as harsh as a raven's cawwing. Meanwhile among the clans, the Keeper and their apprentices would have seen to such traumas when they were still fresh.

"Yes, but Dalish now," Alleyana emphasized, "I've been with them for over a decade. Long enough to earn vallaslin, just like if I'd been born among them. None of the clan treats me any differently, and I represent them regardless of my birthplace."

Solas couldn't help some of the sadness finding its way into his expression at that, but she seemed to assume it was at her story. "And so, you fought your way free of the Arl?"

"Mien'harel," the warrior nodded, and resumed pacing, "I butchered a castle full of guards on my way out. Nelaros died before I could reach him... guarding a choke point. We didn't have _armor_ , and skill can only do so much to make up for wedding clothes. I had one of my cousins with me for backup; Nelaros had... nothing. He died, trying to save someone he'd just met."

"He sounds like a noble spirit," Solas replied softly, "more worthy than most."

"Yeah," Alley agreed just as quietly, "that's why I took the ring with me. The wedding ring he was going to give me, right before those men showed up. We were a bad match, but he should have had the time to find that out for himself. I couldn't even do anything for his corpse, so I took the ring and put it on and I killed every armored human I found in the estate. I left the servants alone, even though that meant witnesses."

"Vengeance," the mage nodded, clasping his hands behind his back. It was a motivator he well understood, and shed light on why the faint markings on her face belonged to the one whose domain included revenge.

"Yeah. But if I'd been less thorough and hurried up..." Alleyana took a deep breath, and then let it back out in a sharp, loud sigh. She then went silent, and began to pace faster -- as though that would make telling the story easier. Solas found himself stepping forward right as her distracted pace sent her stumbling over a loose block, his hands unclasping from behind himself as he moved, and he caught her by the shoulders to steady her on her feet. The armor she wore was cold against his fingers; any heat that had worked its way out from her to the leather and maille beneath his palms and fingers had been stripped away by the wind.

She bowed her head so that he couldn't see her face, but she didn't object to his action, nor did she step away. It would have been easy enough to do so; he wasn't holding on very tightly now that she was steady. "I found the Arl and his friends on top of my cousin," the Inquisitor continued instead, her rough voice pitched low and dark, heavy with blame aimed inwards. _This_ was one of the things Cole had picked up on, Solas realized, that self-recrimination shining like a beacon of pain. It was a festering wound that needed to be lanced and drained. "I butchered them, but they'd already... hurt her. If I'd just been _faster_..."

"Alleyana," it was the very first time he'd used her name, and Solas smiled gently down at her when she looked up. Her eyes were usually hard and dark and a little bit flat, but they were suspiciously damp at the moment, the hardness replaced by surprise at hearing her name. "You have a gentle heart," he told her, "beneath all your armor."

"That's what the armor is for," Alley looked away first, her gaze dropping down and then slanting off to the side, "to keep the stupid thing in one piece."

"I did not... just mean physically," Solas ducked his own head very slightly, trying to catch her gaze again. It didn't work. She was well-practiced at this evasion.

"Me either," her words were barely audible, and she finally stepped back and away from him, turning away to resume her pacing. "...You died for me in Redcliffe," Alleyana continued to avoid looking at him as her boots traced rings around the tiny hidden ruin. "In that future you didn't want to know more about...?" Restrained emotion, just as before, made her voice low and dark again, "You _died_ , defending a choke point so that Dorian and I could return."

Solas moved closer to her, reaching out to put his hands on her shoulders again, offering a different sort of balance than before. She went instantly still. "I am alive now," he pointed out gently, "that version of me succeeded in preventing that world from ever existing. A small sacrifice, to prevent such a world."

"I _watched_ you _die_ ," the Inquisitor repeated, head bowed low so that he couldn't see her face. "They threw your body on the floor when they broke through, I saw your last breath. Just like Nelaros. I...!"

Crooked, armored fingers suddenly clamped down hard on his sides, and her forehead thumped against the top of his shoulder. Solas' breath caught with surprise, but he quickly recovered, feeling her shoulders trying -- and failing -- to not shake beneath his fingers. "It was not your fault," he pitched his voice to be soft, and calm, just like talking to a skittish, wild animal. Slowly, carefully, he removed one hand from her shoulders to skim against the back of her head. Her tightly-woven hair was much softer than it appeared. " _It was not,_ " he repeated, a little more firmly, " _your fault._ "

Her hands tightened until they were almost painful for him, although he wouldn't have protested even if they'd tightened further. The near-silent sob made Solas shut his eyes for a second, before he snaked his arm around her trembling shoulders and pulled her closer, the hand on the back of her head cradling it to his shoulder, giving her permission to bury her face against him. He murmured quiet, nonsensical things in elven while her hands relaxed and tightened and relaxed again, each time seeming to tighten less against his bruising sides. Finally, those hands slid around behind him, her armored fingertips digging into his lower back instead, but not hard.

"Feeling any better?" Solas asked gently, once the shaking seemed to have passed, and he hadn't heard any near-silent, stifled sounds of grief from her in a while.

The Inquisitor seemed to take that as a hint that he wanted his space back, her hands releasing their grip on his back, her legs carrying her backwards a step, head still bowed to hide her face. "Sorry," she muttered, voice even coarser than usual. It reminded Solas of when he'd caught her watching him paint, and how she'd retreated before he had the chance to stop her, fleeing from him like a beaten, stray dog.

He didn't want her to flee, especially not this time. "Do you have a surname?" he asked, offering distraction, the arm around her shoulders not releasing her to flee, though he dropped the one on the back of her head to rest against the back of her neck, offering warmth. "I know that many elves from the city do."

"Tabris," she confirmed, raising a gauntleted hand to swipe at her down-turned face. It wasn't very effective, between the smooth steel and tough leather... neither material was the least bit suited to absorbing tears. Solas finally dared to move the arm from her shoulders, putting a finger beneath her chin and trying to tilt her head _up_. The warrior fought him for a second, and then gave up, her eyes looking flat and dead in the rings of swollen dampness that surrounded them.

He found it beautiful, like the stories he shared with Cole when they traveled. Always tragedies, it seemed... they felt the most real, the most full of heart, the most honest. So, too, did her tear-soaked face and glazed eyes. It was evidence of how much she _cared_ , and that was far more profound, full of far more beauty, than any powdered and perfect visage could offer him. Solas found himself cupping her face in both hands, thumbs stroking over the damp, swollen skin beneath her eyes. "May I?"

She still didn't want to meet his gaze, eyes slanting away. "Fine," was her terse reply, and it made him smile just a little bit, knowing she thought he meant to simply dry her face for her, or perhaps soothe the raw skin with his magic. He was willing to do both, but that wasn't all that he had in mind.

"Close your eyes," he suggested, gently. She was fast to obey; it made avoiding _his_ eyes easier. Solas leaned down the scant few inches it took to brush his lips against those places his thumbs had traced, first on one side, and then on the other, hyper-aware of how her breath caught and then held at the feather-light kissing. Solas drew back, but only a little. "May I?" he asked again. This time, one of his thumbs had found her thin, dry lips, and it traced back and forth, side to side, just hard enough to feel the way she fought not to shake under the touch. As before, it was a losing fight.

The Inquisitor hesitated, eyes sliding back open, her expression strangely open and lost. "...You shouldn't," she murmured, clearly trying to move her mouth as little as possible under his thumb.

"I should not," Solas agreed sadly, knowing he was thinking of far different reasons why he ought not to do this than she was. "However... may I?"

Alleyana took a deep, trembling breath, visibly steeling herself. He fully expected her to say 'no', and he braced himself for it. "...Fine," the warrior repeated, instead, barely audible even as close as he was.

It was a simple matter to lean down once more, tilting his head to the side and letting his eyes slip shut at contact, devouring the startled gasp she let slip. This wasn't in the heat of the moment as the first time had been; he was able to go slowly, but insistently, tasting her sorrow on his tongue, sliding against hers. He felt her knees try to buckle, and he smiled into the kiss, gratified that his explorations had the desired effect. Her hands found his back again, armored fingers clinging to him like she was drowning. 

When he eventually pulled away, it wasn't by much, lingering close enough for their breathing to mingle. She met his eyes, and he smiled at the slightly dazed look that had bloomed across her scarred face. _Now_ , he took a corner of his sleeve, and carefully wiped the lingering tears from her skin. "Ar lath ma," he said softly, "vhenan."

"You..." Alleyana's scar-seamed skin was darker than his own, but Solas was pleased to see new color blooming in her face and on her ears. She was flushed. "Just promise me one thing," her tone had lowered again, despite appearances, her mind couldn't stray from the darkness for long.

"I will try," Solas felt apprehension slide down his spine, but he didn't let it show.

"Don't you ever die for me again," she stared him in the eye while making her demand -- and a demand it _was_ , punctuated by her armored fingers tightening against his back. "I mean it. The Inquisition is full to the brim with people who would -- who probably _will_ \-- die for 'the cause'. Our soldiers invoke me more than they invoke the Maker when they go off to fight and bleed out in the mud. I can't... I'm _not their savior_ , but no one wants to hear it. They die every day, and it's..."

Alleyana shut her eyes, pain etching back into her features with every word. "I don't need anyone else who will die for me. I need someone who will _live_." 

"I..." Solas found himself pinned by her stare when her eyes snapped back open again, "I cannot promise that," he had to move quickly to grab her shoulders when she suddenly released him and started to turn away. "No, please listen. You are the only one who can close the rifts, who can stop Corypheus. I cannot do either. If the choice was between me and you..."

"I need you to choose _you_ ," Alleyana bowed her head, "please, I _need_ you to."

"Vhenan..." Solas trailed off, not sure of what to say, or how to sway her from this demand.

"Look, it's not something I invoke very much, but..." the Inquisitor pulled away, and this time he didn't fight her, feeling something wrench inside his chest as she put distance between them. "Have faith."

He found himself blinking slowly at her, hands hovering in the air before he let them drop to his sides, "I was under the impression you do not believe you are the Herald of Andraste?" Solas asked tentatively.

"I don't," Alleyana clasped her elbows with her opposing hands, "I don't mean it that... way. I mean... have faith that I'm pretty good at surviving, and maybe I don't _need_ you to throw yourself on a pyre to ensure my survival. If the choice comes down between you and me, you choose you, and I promise I will do my best to survive, too. I've kicked the odds in the teeth a few times, haven't I? But if you die to make sure of it... I... I can't..." her armored fingers tightened visibly against her elbows, and she refused to look him in the eye.

"Ahh," Solas' voice was quiet, and he watched her, noting how closed-off her body language was. "...A pact, is it? Very well, I shall promise to choose life."

The Inquisitor nodded, short and sharp, and allowed him to step closer again, leaning very slightly against him when he folded his arms around her shoulders. Though her pains were hardly erased, the eyes that met his weren't quite as flat and dead as before. It was a start.


End file.
